


A Pretty Face

by toesohnoes



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-17
Updated: 2011-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-17 01:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy isn't used to having crushes on people, especially not seventeen year old boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pretty Face

The kid is like a goddamn doll, with his pale skin and huge eyes. In his casual clothes, jeans and a t-shirt, McCoy can't stop himself from looking at him. Chekov is seventeen, for hell's sake. It's not right for a middle-aged doctor to start drooling over him.

Yet there's something about him – something stupid and annoying that itches right at the corner of his consciousness, that won't allow him to think of anything else while Chekov is in the room. It's like trying to ignore the sun.

He's paying hardly any attention to his own conversation with Jim, which is bound to have unfortunate effects in the future. Across the room, Chekov holds all of his attention, with the bright smile and the animated waving of his hands. Sulu has a half-smirk on his face while he listens to his friend, and McCoy watches him carefully, trying to work out if there's something going on there. They spend a lot of time together, don't they? And a guy like Chekov, friendly and outgoing, he isn't going to remain single on this ship for long.

"Bones?" Jim says, prodding his shoulders. "Did you hear what I just said?"

McCoy shakes himself back into reality and refocuses on Jim.

Soon afterwards, he wishes he had been paying attention all along. Leaving Jim unattended is never a smart idea.

*

Then there's Kirk himself, which upsets the whole game. Jim has an eye for pretty faces, there's no denying that, and there's something about the sight of him talking to Chekov off-duty that makes something ugly move in McCoy's chest.

They're standing so close together, much too close, and it's all that McCoy can do not to intervene. What the hell would he do anyway? What could he say?

Chekov is beaming with excitement, and McCoy can hear the story being told about his life at school, a mishap involving a failed science experiment. It's an image that makes him wish he could've been there, but more than the words it is the body language that holds his attention: Jim's hand on Chekov's shoulder and the ridiculously small gap between the pair of them.

"You're into him, right?" Jim asks him that evening, with a grin on his face like a schoolgirl with gossip. "Chekov, I mean."

"He's seventeen," McCoy grumbles.

It's not much of an answer at all.

*

Following Jim's discovery, McCoy finds that his shifts coincide neatly with Chekov's, and that Chekov is repeatedly sent to the medical bay for minor problems. He thinks about all of the many forms of revenge that he wants to take on Jim, but it's difficult to stay angry when he has those ridiculously blue eyes focused on him.

"Doctor McCoy," Chekov says, sitting on the edge of one of the beds. His feet are dangling in the air. "May I ask you a question?"

He nods but looks down at his instruments as he monitors Chekov's blood pressure. It's easier to do his job when he doesn't have to look at him.

"I think you like me, da?"

That's sure enough to make his head shoot up again. Chekov's expression is wonderfully calm, however. There might even be a twist of amusement hidden in his smile.

"I like you too, you see." Chekov shuffles closer to the edge of the bed. "I would very much like to spend more time with you."

McCoy's mouth feels like sandpaper. He hasn't felt like this since he was a teenager, so completely knocked off balance. He clears his throat and tried to remember how to speak. "Yeah," he breathes. "Think I'd like that too."

He feels Chekov's hand on his shoulder, followed by the quick press of lips against his cheek. It passes in a split-second, but it's still enough to make his heart clench and his breath catch. He's a grown man, not an innocent child, but he can't fight his reaction.

Looking at Chekov's bright-eyed glee, he doesn't think he can fight any of this at all.


End file.
